


our hearts, they were beating in the dark

by scepticallyopenminded



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Drinking, Hale Pack as Vampires, M/M, McCall Pack as Hunters, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Vampire Derek Hale, but still a pack, is it obvious yet how much I love magical Stiles?, it's not like graphic at all just happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just relax,” Derek murmurs, pressing a couple of fingers to Stiles’ neck, and Stiles sighs even as he relaxes some against Derek’s chest.<br/>“Right. Like I can relax knowing that your fangs are going to be in me in a moment.”<br/>“Remember what it was like last time?” Derek’s voice is still quiet, soft and…almost careful. His breath is oddly cool against Stiles’ neck, though his fingers and body feel warm and comfortable.<br/>“I passed out last time,” Stiles reminds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our hearts, they were beating in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sad about how bad I am at writing sometimes.
> 
> title from "We Are" by Hollywood Undead (it took for-fucking-ever to find a title for this fic, honestly)
> 
> also, I found a work of mine on goodreads the other day. this should go without saying, but DON'T SHARE MY WORKS WITHOUT MY EXPRESS PERMISSION, ESPECIALLY TO SITES LIKE GOODREADS. the only exception is tumlblr recs, and even then it'd be nice of you to alert me before you do. RESPECT FIC AUTHORS.

**20:23** _I’m coming over_.

Stiles nervously bites his lip as he sends the text – nervousness he rarely feels, even in the face of death, but this was completely new territory, and he _hates_ new territory. How does he _do_ this? He rereads it, realizing that it seems kind of…rude. Which he doesn’t _necessarily_ care, but. He hasn’t seen Derek since they’d defeated the lamia, though he had seen Isaac and Erica at the grocery store a few days later. Erica’d smirked at him as Isaac had simply nodded once in greeting before pulling Erica along. But the thing was – he doesn’t think it was necessarily _prudent_ to be outright rude to them.

**20:24** _We need to talk._ he quickly types out and sends, hoping it sounds formal enough but not hostile. They’re on – weirdly rocky, shaky ground, with Derek and his brood, Stiles thinks.

He’s still waiting for a text back ten minutes later, and he’s thinking about either just going over to the house the brood lives at or the club or maybe texting Derek again when his phone beeps, and he jumps a little bit, the soup he’d been eating sloshing on the table. He snarls at it, on instinct, and grabs his phone.

**20:35 Derek Hale** _Meet me at the house at nine._

Stiles curses, looking down at himself: in pajamas because he hadn’t been out of his apartment all day, his dinner only half finished, and besides that, it takes a good half hour to get to the house the brood is staying at. He sighs, shoving his chair back and taking his bowl to the sink; at least he’d showered the night before – except, he doesn’t really care too much, except that _yes, Lydia, he does kind of want to impress the brood yet._ It’s human instinct, to want to impress others, right?

His phone beeps again, a familiar sound that lets him know it’s one of the pack. He grabs his phone, going down the hall to his bedroom.

**20:36 Lyds** _We’re meeting at Scott and Ally’s apt eight tmrw. You good to drive up to OR?_

**20:37** _yeah. Going to talk to Derek now._

He throws his phone on his bed, turning to his closet and grabbing jeans and a t-shirt, throwing them on as quickly as he can, running a hand through his hair before grabbing his jacket. His phone beeps again, and he grabs it as he walks back out to his front door, shoving his feet in his boots and grabbing his keys. He shoves the knife into his waistband out of habit from where it hangs next to his keys, and looks at his phone as he shuts off the lights and heads out the door.

**20:39 Lyds** _Be careful. I don’t trust him._

Stiles snorts, shutting the door behind him and shoving his phone in his jacket pocket, locking his door. It’s not like he really trusts Derek, either, though he’d well proven himself in their fight against the lamia; he’d saved Stiles’ life when it’d lunged unexpectedly at him, and Isaac had ultimately been the one to finish it off. Interestingly, a weird, stilted camaraderie had quickly sprung up between Isaac and Scott, and Lydia had given a bit of a once-over and a grunt and small nod to Erica when Erica’d said “Oh, hey, I love your shoes”.

It was going to take a hell of a lot more than that to integrate the brood into the base of trust that the pack had built over many, many years, but Stiles can feel a certain amount of…acceptance already running through the pack.

And, the thing is, he feels weirdly nervous about meeting Derek now, but he knows that has more to do with the fact that it’s been two weeks and…

He actually doesn’t know. Whether he feels weird and nervous because it’s been two weeks or because Derek hasn’t _said_ anything yet or maybe because he’s kind of _disappointed_ that Derek hasn’t said anything yet.

He sighs, climbing into his jeep and pulling his phone out again.

**20:40** _I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home later._

And then he opens up his other text, biting his lip as he types it out.

**20:41** _On my way._

*****

The huge mansion the brood are staying at is a well-known place to Beacon Hills. It’d belonged to one of the founders of the town who’d built it way back in the nineteenth century after striking real rich in the gold rush. They’d immediately bought up all the surrounding land and beyond that and created the Preserve, most of which was now owned by the town itself.

The mansion had been abandoned long before Stiles had been born, and he’d grown up to ghost stories about the place, and in high school it was a common dare to get someone to spend the night in the house (very few people actually went through with it, and those that did _swore_ that there was something there).

(Regardless, it isn’t until the pack are seniors and juniors in high school, two years after Scott, Jackson, Malia, and Lydia are bitten, a year after Allison discovers her family’s heritage as hunters, and just a few months after Kira joins the pack, that they figure out that the place actually _is_ haunted. It’s when Stiles and Scott go out to the place just to poke around they discover this, as well as the fact that Stiles is a spark – magic, it seems, is a conductor for the afterlife. It’s not a malevolent spirit, but they find the remains buried out back and burn them, officially releasing it.)

Last Stiles’d seen the place, it was falling apart; windows shattered, roof falling in, half the place a burned hull from a fire set by a teenager back just after Stiles’ dad had been elected Sheriff.

Now, Stiles notes as he climbs out of the jeep, it looks – livable. Although the burnt part is still partially there, the windows are replaced, doors intact, obviously being rebuilt. Light radiates from a couple of the windows in the front.

Nobody opens the door as Stiles approaches, though he knows that vamps have as good hearing as ‘wolves, and even humans can clearly hear when the jeep drives up (much as Stiles loves the vehicle, and as reliable as it is, it’s old and loud).

He knocks as he glances at his phone, Lydia having sent one more text.

**Lyds 21:07** _Good luck_.

Derek opens the door just as Stiles is reading the text, and he startles at the sudden flood of light, silhouette of Derek in the doorway.

“Hey,” is what he says, stepping back from the doorway to let Stiles in, and Stiles walks in with a nod and a returned “Hey.”

The inside of the house looks relatively livable as well, drywall visible in at least the rooms Stiles can see from the entryway, floors definitely new hardwood, and there’s furniture, though it’s sparse, just couches and chairs and a table or two. Derek shuts the door, sliding past Stiles and brushing his hand across his back before walking toward what Stiles assumes is the living room. Scowl in place because they are _not_ comfortable enough to be casually touching each other, Stiles follows, only feeling a teensy bit ashamed that he checks Derek’s ass out (he’s wearing loose sweatpants, but damn, he _has_ got a nice ass – and, Stiles notes before averting his eyes, seriously nice back muscles).

Derek gestures to the couch when they get to the area as he sits down in one of the armchairs (that look _seriously_ comfortable, actually), and Stiles sits, looking around the room. There’s a TV above the fireplace that actually has a fire burning in it, which makes absolutely no sense considering vampires have no sense of temperature, and a really nice kitchen that looks to be mid-renovation, which also doesn’t make a lot of sense considering vampires don’t have to eat.

“Looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” Stiles offers, glancing over at Derek who’s watching him with obvious amusement in his expression. He raises one eyebrow just a little bit and nods.

“We’ve been working pretty hard on it.”

Stiles hums, glancing away from Derek again and licking his lips, “Where’s the rest of your brood?”

“Out,” Derek replies, and he’s still staring at Stiles when he looks back. It’s disconcerting, and there’s a long pause before Derek continues.

“Erica and Boyd are at the club and Isaac said he was going to be with his familiar tonight.”

“Isaac has a familiar?” he asks, fully surprised and a little angry because this kind of shit is not –

“We need blood to live,” Derek interrupts his thoughts, “Of course he does. She’s aware of it, too, though she lives outside of your territory and it’s not your pack’s problem.”

“What about Erica and Boyd?” Stiles broaches, all thoughts of propriety and politeness going out the window because this _is_ actually shit they need to know about.

“They’re together. They generally find people for…ménage a trois’ and feed unknowingly from them. And from each other then.”

“That’s possible?” Stiles asks. Derek pauses, then nods.

“They have to feed more often – every couple of weeks rather than every month like most vampires – but yes. It helps them feel closer to each other, too.” 

“But – you have to feed every couple of weeks.” At least, Stiles really hopes he does, because that’s what he’s told them, and if he’s lied about that Stiles certainly isn’t going to be the only one seriously pissed off about it.

“I’m like the alpha in a pack,” Derek explains, “It takes more to keep me grounded. Although I, like Erica and Boyd, can go more than two weeks without feeding, it’s best if it doesn’t have to get to that because after two weeks the hunger starts to get unbearable.”

“Oh.” Stiles supposes that makes sense, “I’m glad I came over then.”

Derek cocks his head slowly to the side, curiosity replacing the amusement in his eyes.

“Why _did_ you come over?”

“We’re, uh, we’re leaving tomorrow. There’s a group of skin-walkers wreaking havoc in Oregon and another pack wants us there to help take care of them.”

“Skin-walkers?” Derek asks, looking even more curious.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, looking at the fire because Derek’s stare is seriously disconcerting, even with his human, pretty green eyes.

“Hmm. I’ve never actually met any.”

Stiles’ eyes go back to find Derek’s without a thought, surprised. Derek looks truthful, more curious than anything, and that is something Stiles can relate to; the constant curiosity when meeting with something new, the thirst for more knowledge on all things supernatural.

“First time we met them we thought they were just weres. But they smell different, according to the actual weres in the pack, and besides that, they don’t generally care about exposing themselves or the entire supernatural world to the unknowing, very unlike weres. They have no sense of self-preservation, though I don’t think they’re aware of it.”

“Is what they say about skin-walkers true? How you become one, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says with another nod, smile falling off his face as he thinks about the process, “You have to kill the animal you want to become, don it’s pelt, say a spell. They’re rare, of course, and usually when we come across a pack of them it’s because a group of teenagers stumbled across the spell. But when they actually become the skin-walker...they usually lose control of their faculties.”

Derek hums, eyebrows scrunching together as he thinks about this, for the first time dropping his eyes from Stiles and looking at the floor. Silence ensues for a few short moments before Stiles shifts and Derek is looking at him again, expression suddenly amused again.

“So, um, that’s what I came to tell you. The entire pack is going, this time; the group in Oregon is large, one of the largest we’ve ever heard of. So if you could, uh, keep an eye on this place, that’d be great.”

Stiles shifts again, but doesn’t actually rise to move, waiting for Derek to say something. He doesn’t, the quick pattern of Stiles’ heartbeat obviously cluing him in, but the amusement in his eyes and annoying smug expression grows as they sit there again in quiet.

“That, and, uh, y’know…” Stiles tries, but Derek just hitches an eyebrow, and god, Stiles hates him. So he gets up, abruptly, turning and facing him with his own annoyed expression.

“That’s all. I’ll see you when - ”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek interrupts, amusement falling into softness, nodding at the couch, “We don’t want me going hungry, do we?”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Stiles mumbles as he falls back into the couch, watching Derek stand and walk slowly over to him. He sits down in the opposite end, folding his legs up under him and raising both eyebrows.

“C’mere,” he tells Stiles, patting the part of the couch just in front of his folded legs, and Stiles stares at the spot for a moment before looking back up at Derek.

“Um.”

Derek rolls his eyes, which when he’d met him Stiles wouldn’t have said was something he would ever see.

“Do you want to be comfortable?”

Stiles rolls his eyes this time but agrees, shuffling down the sofa and with one last, long look at Derek, turns his back to him, about to settle when a hand stops him.

“Easier if you take your jacket off.”

The voice is nearly directly in his ear as the hand starts to slide Stiles’ coat off his shoulder. Stiles jerks away, pulling his coat off himself as he glares at Derek. He’s just leaning back again when Derek’s hand stops him again, this time near the small of his back and pulling out his – oh, yeah.

“Really?” Derek asks flatly as he holds the knife, expression matching his tone of voice. Stiles sighs, holding his own hand out for it.

“Force of habit,” he replies as Derek carefully sets the knife into his open palm, eyes never leaving it. He tosses it to the end of the couch on top of his jacket. “Plus it’s Beacon Hills. Better not to go out without something to defend myself.”

Derek considers this for a moment, nodding in assent before he places on hand on Stiles’ hip, the other on his shoulder and maneuvers him back so Stiles is leaning against his chest. Stiles grumbles, for a moment, but lets himself be moved because Derek’s done this before, and he hasn’t, and he figures if he passes out he’d rather Derek catch him than fall off the couch, honestly.

“Just relax,” Derek murmurs, pressing a couple of fingers to Stiles’ neck, and Stiles sighs even as he relaxes some against Derek’s chest.

“Right. Like I can relax knowing that your fangs are going to be in me in a moment.”

“Remember what it was like last time?” Derek’s voice is still quiet, soft and…almost careful. His breath is oddly cool against Stiles’ neck, though his fingers and body feel warm and comfortable.

“I passed out last time,” Stiles reminds him, and he can almost _feel_ the eye roll that he’s sure Derek gives him. He’s about to turn, see his face because now he’s curious, when he feels pinpricks to his neck, followed very quickly by a sharper, deeper pain, and then –

Then, for a half second it’s an odd stinging sensation, but then it’s absolutely amazing. At first it’s like an out of body experience, one that quickly turns way too _good_ to be that, and then – Stiles thinks briefly, briefly enough that he doesn’t have time to argue with himself – that it’s absolutely _as good as_ if not _better_ than an orgasm, seriously, holy shit, like he can feel magic running through his veins even as the sucking sensation continues.

A second later, his world fades to black.

***

As life is, Stiles once again wakes up comfortably, fingers threading through his hair. He blinks slowly, feeling sluggish and tired, before he realizes where he is – at the brood’s houses and, currently, lying across Derek’s body, head on his chest. He tries to sit up immediately, only this time to be stopped by the arm that Derek had slung across his body, and his arm goes out to catch himself, his elbow slamming into Derek’s thigh. Derek, for his part, just huffs laughingly and grabs the arm that’s still leaning on his leg, positioning Stiles so that he’s still against Derek but sitting up more.

“I passed out again,” Stiles says after a moment, looking at Derek’s face. Derek nods, hand that was sliding through his hair instead brushing along his arm. It’s strangely comforting, and Stiles lets it go even though he can feel his heartbeat pick up slightly as he realizes it.

“Most humans do the first few times, and quite a few do every time. You _are_ getting about a pint of blood taken out of you.”

Stiles closes his eyes, yawning a little and leaning heavier into Derek.

“Thought my spark would help me out with that.”

Derek snorts, fingers still idling over Stiles’ arm.

“Maybe if you knew how to control your spark better.”

“Wait - what do you know about sparks?” Stiles asks, eyes suddenly open and wide and staring at Derek’s face. Derek hitches an eyebrow at him.

“What do you want to know about sparks?”

Stiles huffs, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Everything,” he breaths, eyes catching Derek’s again, “I don’t know much. There’s a druid, the – ”

“Vet, yes, I know,” Derek confirms with a nod, and when Stiles doesn’t say anything and just stares at him curiously, he rolls his eyes, “I told you before, we did our research before coming here. We knew every supernatural creature that resides here.” There’s a pause, then he continues with his eyebrows drawn in.

“Well, except you. Thought you were human because your power isn’t very advanced.”

“That’s the _thing_ ,” Stile continues, huffing, “Deaton – the druid – he was an emissary for a pack down in San Francisco for years before a change of power took place and he was replaced, but he doesn’t know a whole lot about sparks. He told me that he doesn’t think sparks can train their powers very much, that’s why I don’t have as much control as I’d like or why my magic isn’t very advanced – ”

“Sparks have a _lot_ of inherent power,” Derek interrupts, watching Stiles with a small smile, “More than any other magical creature, except some types of fae. Witches don’t have a lot of power, but they can train what they do have over many years. Druids, nymphs, and the like have an exponentially higher amount of power, but they too have to train for long periods of time to use it, and even then can only use it directly through spells and potions. Fae and sparks are at the highest end of the inherent and natural power and talent, but it can’t be trained, that’s true. It’s something you have to come into naturally.”

Stiles huffs again, settling down to the back of couch, half resting on Derek’s arm. He still feels tired and drained, and tries to pull some of his magic up because he’s gotta drive for hours tomorrow and then they’re gonna have a pack of skin-walkers to take care of.

“And how do I come into it naturally?”

Derek pauses, shifting his arm and brushing his fingers along one of Stiles’ tattoos on his wrist.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s different for everyone, but I think it has a lot to do with getting in touch with yourself and getting to know your own power.”

Stiles snorts, looking incredulously at Derek.

“Is this supposed to be some sort of spiritual awakening or something?”

“You’re an asshole,” Derek informs him, like Stiles doesn’t already know this about himself, “But in a way, yes. I think…I learned the most I know about sparks during the ‘60s, so part of that might just be the whole hippie movement, since a lot of magical entities were into the hippie thing.”

Stiles outright laughs this time, but Derek just sighs, his hand pausing where it’s still on Stiles’ wrist.

“Just lay back and think about your spark,” he suggests as soon as Stiles has stopped laughing, and Stiles looks amused but nonetheless does as Derek says, relaxing and closing his eyes, thinking about his spark – something he’s always imagined as this red, sometimes blue light emanating from his chest, near his heart, and he focuses on that, the always-there, low thrum of energy just below the surface of his skin.

“Think about how much power you have,” Derek whispers, fingers brushing lightly across his palm, then the inside of his wrist, leaving a tingling sensation behind, and Stiles does, taking a deep breath and forcing that apparent inherent magic further toward the surface, and – his heartbeat suddenly evens out from where it’s always jackrabbit-ing all over the place, a sudden calmness overtaking his entire body from where it hasn’t been since he can remember, his ADD always forcing him to quickly move from one thing to the next, unable to dispel all of the energy from his body. He still can feel an energy, but it’s different, calmer and softer.

More than that, he can suddenly feel Derek next to him – not just his body, not even his fingers still tracing light patterns into Stiles’ skin, but his actual presence; the presence of a vampire, icy-cool aura something that’s always _been_ there but not something Stiles has been able to actively feel, which he now can.

“I can feel it,” Derek whispers, and Stiles jerks at that, opening his eyes. He can still sense Derek’s aura, even as he looks directly at him, and the usual magical energy thrumming through his veins is stronger already.

“Whoa,” is all he says, and Derek smiles genuinely.

“And you’re a hell of a lot more powerful than that,” he says quietly, eyes sparkling, and Stiles blinks, smiling back at Derek. They stay that way, staring at each other for a long moment before the smile suddenly drops off Derek’s face and he looks over toward the wall. Stiles follows his gaze to see a clock, and his stomach drops a little when he realizes it’s nearly eleven and that he must’ve been out for quite a while. He clears his throat, feeling better, and sits up fully, taking his arm back from Derek.

“I, uh, should probably get going. ‘ve got a hell of a drive tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Derek replies, eyes as suddenly on Stiles again as they’d left, “Good luck.”

Stiles nods, averting his own eyes and standing. He feels Derek’s hand brush against the small of his back as he also rises, but he ignores it in favour of grabbing his jacket and the knife sitting on top of it. After he’s shoved it on and carefully put the knife back into his waistband, he turns once more to look at Derek, nodding mostly to himself.

“Um, so thanks for the…for helping me with my spark,” he says after another long moment staring at each other, and Derek looks surprised for a moment before he smiles softly again.

“You’re welcome. Maybe we can work on it some more when you get back.”

Which reminds Stiles that _this_ is definitely not a one-time thing. He smiles at the idea as they walk toward the door, Derek’s fingers brushing against the back of Stiles’ hand as he reaches around him to open the door.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” he says, and Derek leans on the door, pausing mid-nod to look out toward the woods with a short laugh, shaking his head. Stiles looks curiously at him.

“You can tell your pack that you’re perfectly safe here and they don’t have to send someone to check up on you every time you come out,” Derek replies to his look, and Stiles glances out toward the woods in time to see a flash of blue eyes before there’s an obvious scampering away, and he rolls his eyes – _Lydia, honestly_.

“I could, but I doubt they’d listen anyway,” he replies, pausing for just another moment before slipping out the door, lifting his hand in a half-wave as he walks out onto the porch. Derek stays leaning against the open door, watching as Stiles gets to his car.

“Good luck,” he calls out just as Stiles climbs in, and he just smiles to himself as he closes the door and starts the vehicle up.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm writing. I'm trying. and I'm sorry. :( 
> 
> please alert me if I've missed any pertinent tags. I think I got them all but I'm only one tired as hell person.
> 
> in the works I have:  
> part 10 and epilogue of Alpha Stiles  
> part 3 of nothing feels like you  
> a very short hs au  
> a teen wolf series based on ALL of 1d's songs ever released (which will probs be mostly Sterek but not ALL)


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